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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942992">(a song) only you can understand</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/InterstellarBlue'>InterstellarBlue (nagi_schwarz)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>ASTRO (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:15:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,648</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/InterstellarBlue</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Moon Bin's mother always said he should love a girl not because she was beautiful but because she sang a song only he could understand.</p><p>He didn't think she meant it literally.</p><p>Or that she meant it about a strange boy on a train.</p><p>Featuring fabulous MJ and his artistic talents, producer Jinjin, and Eunwoo who thinks no one would want to be his soulmate.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Moon Bin/Park Minhyuk | Rocky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>(a song) only you can understand</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday <a href="https://twitter.com/yunubunn">@yunubunn</a>, who requested Binhyuk, comedy romance, and the moment you found your soulmate (among other things but I picked what I could work with).</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Being Moon Bin — triple threat; idol, actor, and model — was exhausting, and when Bin got a day off (a real day off) he was always excited. To do as little as possible. Mostly he wanted to stay in his very nice apartment in his very nice apartment building, which had excellent security and a polite but implacable doorman, and go nowhere and see no one, but he remembered, too late, that his younger sister’s birthday was coming up, and he had to get her a gift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was notorious for having a bloodhound nose. Sua had a different kind of bloodhound sense. She could sense insincerity a mile away, and she’d know if he lazily browsed Amazon for something she might sort of kind of like. Even if he paid extra to have it gift-wrapped very fancy, she’d be highly unimpressed by an Amazon box showing up on her door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Moon Bin — triple threat; cover model for Men’s Health, Dazed Korea, and GQ all in one month; Melon Chart topper six weeks running — donned a gray hoodie, a basic pair of jeans, the beat-up old sneakers he usually wore to the gym, and slouched out of his very nice apartment to pound the pavement and find just the right gift for his sister. She had excellent and very specific taste in clothes and accessories, so Bin wasn’t going to try to buy either of those for her. She had just about anything money could buy, because Moon Sua was the leader and main dancer and lead rapper in BrightStar, one of the biggest girl groups in the industry, and Bin, as her humble little hoobae, probably couldn’t get her anything one of her fans hadn’t already bought for her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had his earbuds in so he could listen to music while he rode the subway to a nice shopping district downtown. Where he and Sua were both trained dancers and had grown up taking dance lessons together, there was nice dance gear they both appreciated. She might want a nice new pair of dance shoes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Someone from the company had given Bin a compilation of possible tracks for his next album, all guide tracks, so he was listening to them. He liked to do a gut check listen, see which ones idly caught his ear with their melody alone while he was out and about and distracted, because those would probably be catchy to other people as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a beanie on under his hoodie to hide his pink hair, still bright from his most recent comeback promotions, and he knew to hunch his shoulders, duck his chin to look innocuous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One song caught his ear, with a light pop beat and a bit of a funky guitar part, and Bin nodded along to the sound. The train slowed, and when an elderly woman hobbled onto the train car, Bin surrendered his seat to her, hung onto a ring to steady himself in the midst of the buffeting crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the song changed abruptly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was startled by the light, airy instrumentation, and a man’s voice he’d never heard before; hadn’t he worked with all of these producers and songwriters before? He knew all their voices by now, he thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What was this? A rap part?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin fished his phone out of his hoodie pocket and frowned at it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>According to his phone, his music player was paused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And yet the song was still playing on Bin’s earbuds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had his bluetooth connection been hijacked? It was possible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin tugged out his earbuds and craned his neck, peered around him for anyone else who was looking confusedly at their own phone. He could ask them to cut the bluetooth connection to his earbuds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he noticed the young man in front of him who had a pair of large over-the-ear headphones resting around his neck, who was bobbing his head absently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And humming the song that had just been playing on Bin’s earbuds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man sang softly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>When the cold wind blows…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice was the one on Bin’s earbuds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin popped one of them back in, and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>that man’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin tapped at his phone some more, but it appeared to be utterly frozen. The song was still playing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he tugged his earbud out, the young man was still bobbing his head and humming to himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin tried to lean in closer and see if maybe the young man was listening to the song on his headphones. Some people did that, plugged in their headphones and then turned them up loud so they could kind of hear, but the train was loud, and Bin could barely hear the man humming, let alone anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then the man shifted, and Bin could see his profile. He was — handsome. Startlingly handsome, which was a lot coming from Bin, who’d trained with Cha Eunwoo and MJ. The man had high cheekbones and dimples when he smiled to himself, singing some more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And suddenly Bin realized.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Words his mother had told him all the time growing up ricocheted through his skull.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t love a girl because she’s beautiful; love a girl because she sings a song only you can understand.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had thought it was just his mother waxing philosophical and romantic, but —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But a fraction of people in the world had soulmates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And finding one’s soulmate manifested in different ways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun was colorblind, and when he finally met his soulmate, he’d see color.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eunwoo had a soulmark written low on his hip, a phrase that would be the first words his soulmate ever said to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were rare, though.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin had always assumed that he had no soulmate because he could see color and he had no soulmark and no words or marks ever randomly appeared on his skin from his soulmate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what if that man was his soulmate? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if Bin was hearing a song that only they shared?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except it wasn’t a very happy song, was about a lost love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s heart roared in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He popped the earbuds back in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song had changed. He looked down at his phone. It was still frozen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there was the man’s voice again, singing a new song, this one brighter and cuter and more upbeat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin popped his earbuds out and stared at the man, who was bobbing his head and humming along to the new song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Bin realized — he was hearing the songs the man was singing in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin took a deep breath, reached out with a shaking hand. Tapped the man on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man spun around, eyes wide, hands up to defend himself, and Bin automatically raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” Bin’s heart roared louder in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man eyed him. “What do you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I noticed you humming,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately the man blushed, and he looked adorable. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s just — are you a songwriter?” Bin asked. Something about the production quality of the songs on his earbuds had sounded like guide tracks, which was why he’d initially thought it was another guide track on his compilation for his next album.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sort of, but just for fun. I’m not very good,” the man said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your song sounded really good,” Bin said, and sang the chorus, </span>
  <em>
    <span>When the cold wind blows.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The man blinked at him. “Was I singing the lyrics too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A bit,” Bin said, which was true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man ducked his head and bit his lip. “I’m really sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t apologize,” Bin said. “It was catchy. I liked it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What could he possibly say? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I think you’re my soulmate?</span>
  </em>
  <span> That would sound totally crazy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train started to slow. Bin had to at least learn his soulmate’s name. If the man even was his soulmate. Maybe the man had just somehow hijacked the bluetooth on Bin’s earbuds and Bin was losing his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, I work for an entertainment company, and we’re always looking for new songs,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man raised his eyebrows, looked Bin up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s my day off,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On a Wednesday?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” Bin fumbled in his hoodie pocket for his wallet. “Let me give you my business card. I —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The train doors hissed open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gotta go, Entertainment Salary Man.” Bin’s soulmate waved, expression amused and skeptical, and headed for the doors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait!” Bin shouted. He was about to lose his soulmate forever. “What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man just waved again and then was swallowed up in the crowd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin tried to run after him, but he was swept up in the rush of incoming passengers, forced to the far side of the train car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin’s heart sank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, music started to play from his earbuds. His phone had unfrozen.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“You sound like a crazy person,” Myungjun said, but he was sitting at one of the desks in one of the small conference rooms various idols and celebrities used for Vlives, with a pencil in hand, trying to draw Bin’s soulmate from his admittedly inadequate description. “Pretty sure that’s not how a soulmate bond manifests.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I could </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear</span>
  </em>
  <span> the music that was playing </span>
  <em>
    <span>in his head,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bin said. “I’m sure of it. Songs he’s written or imagined writing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty sure your earbuds just got hijacked by his phone’s bluetooth connection,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin eyed Myungjun’s drawing, then said, “No, his nose was straighter and narrower.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun rolled his eyes but adjusted the lines with a few swift strokes of his pencil. “How about now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Closer, but his cheekbones were higher,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin hooked his chin on Bin’s shoulder and eyed the drawing. “At least you have good taste in men.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s my soulmate,” Bin insisted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re crazy,” Myungjun said. “Did you get Sua a nice present?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bought her a wooden jewelry box handmade by a nice old man from Jeju Island,” Bin said. “He had a stronger brow.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now you’re just making things up,” Myungjun said. “No one is this handsome and sings as well as you said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Says the man in the room full of idols,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun paused and pressed a hand to his face. “True. I am beautiful, and I’m a phenomenal singer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The picture,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Assuming Myungjun gets it right, what are you going to do with it? Make ‘wanted’ posters and post them all over Gangnam?” Dongmin asked. “‘Wanted: Moon Bin’s soulmate.’ Your fans will lose their minds. Have you talked to your management team?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to find him first,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun gestured to the drawing. “Will you be able to find him with this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But how?” Dongmin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Bin said, “I told him I worked for an entertainment company and we were interested in songwriters. So. That’s how I’ll ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin looked dubious, as did Myungjun, but Myungjun surrendered the drawing, and Bin took a picture of it with his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He posted it to his personal SNS accounts, the ones fans didn’t know about, the ones he used to stay connected with his family and friends, with the caption: </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed connection — looking for this talented songwriter. RT and repost to help me find him!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really think that’ll work?” Dongmin asked, even as he liked the post and retweeted it like a good friend.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope so,” Bin said.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>In the week that followed, he kept humming snatches of his soulmate’s songs again and hoping, waiting for a positive response, but no one he knew had ever heard of the young songwriter Bin had met on the train. He’d provided all the details he could — height, approximate age, the stop where he’d first notice the man, the stop the man departed at — but turned up nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s got you all weird and mopey?” Sua demanded one night at a rare family dinner; they’d gathered for his aunt’s birthday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was slouched in the corner and doing his best to be unobtrusive — having black hair again helped — and he ducked his head further when Sua turned to him. “I’m fine. Just — tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Comeback promotions ended two weeks ago,” Sua said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re already getting ready for my next album. Picking songs and whatnot,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua nodded. “Hence the search for the songwriter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shrugged. He didn’t want to lie to his sister, but he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it at the dinner table either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the meal, after most of their relatives had departed from the fancy restaurant, Sua stood on the steps beside Bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I found my soulmate — and lost him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua’s eyes went wide. “That songwriter you posted about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why didn’t you just tell him you were soulmates?” Sua swatted his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin winced, pouted. “He didn’t seem to notice anything was different. I didn’t want to be weird in case I was wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why would you be wrong?” Sua asked. Then her eyes lit up. “Can I see your soulmark? Unless it appeared somewhere scandalous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, it wasn’t like that.” Bin sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then how was it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin told her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eunwoo and MJ are right. You’re crazy,” Sua said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you remember that thing Mom always says —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s just Mom being weird,” Sua said, waving a dismissive hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s just me being weird?” Mom asked. She gathered both of them in and squeezed them warmly. “My beautiful babies. How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bin thinks he found his soulmate, but he’s delusional,” Sua said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, the person who sings a song only you can understand?” Mom asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “What does that mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It means you can hear the song of your soulmate’s soul,” Mom said. “Unfortunately for me your father isn’t a great singer, but at least he has great taste in guitar solos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sua said to Bin, “Maybe you’re not delusional.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom raised her eyebrows. “You really did find your soulmate? Tell me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Bin did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mom swept him into a massive hug, squeezed him so tight he could barely breathe. “He </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> your soulmate! Oh, I’m so happy for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I lost him, and I don’t know how to find him again,” Bin protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find him,” Mom said. “It’s fate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “All right. I’ll be patient.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Dongmin informed him that </span>
  <em>
    <span>patient</span>
  </em>
  <span> was not the same thing as </span>
  <em>
    <span>passive,</span>
  </em>
  <span> so Bin kept putting inquiries out to other songwriters and producers he knew, if they knew the stranger from the train. And he took the train whenever he could, and kept an eye out for his soulmate, and he had his earbuds in all the time, waiting for the moment when his soulmate’s song interrupted whatever he was listening to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But nothing happened. He didn’t see his soulmate. He didn’t hear his soulmate’s songs. No one knew him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Weeks passed, and Bin felt desperate and stupid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should have just told him you were soulmates,” Myungjun said, while the three of them sat in the van on the way back to the company after all day recording at a music show.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if I was wrong?” Bin protested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You weren’t wrong,” Myungjun said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know that at the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mother could have been clearer,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “It’s true.” But he didn’t want to blame his mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your soulmate is the person who sings a song only you can understand, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she’d said, over and over again, telling him to be patient, that they’d find each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Bin didn’t see how.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Dongmin said, “You know what you should do is sing one of his songs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin blinked, yanked out of his thoughts. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he’s a songwriter, he’s probably quite protective of his intellectual property. If he hears someone singing one of his songs, he’ll find you,” Dongmin said. “You said you ran the lyrics of his songs through portal sites and couldn’t find them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but that just means the songs haven’t been picked up by artists,” Bin said. “For all I know, someone out there is already singing his songs and one more cover won’t matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, if someone is singing his songs, they’re not someone famous,” Myungjun said. “You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>Moon Bin.</span>
  </em>
  <span> You might as well take advantage of it for once.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Besides, didn’t your mother say your soulmate </span>
  <em>
    <span>sings</span>
  </em>
  <span> the songs only you understand? Maybe that’s what you need to do. Sing,” Dongmin added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Isn’t that some kind of massive copyright violation?” Myungjun asked. “From the man who was going to be a lawyer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin shrugged. “People post covers on YouTube all the time from other artists. It’s no big deal. A cover is a derivative work and you’re not claiming copyright to the song, only to your performance of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you’re not secretly a lawyer?” Myungjun asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only play one on TV sometimes,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will it make him mad? That I stole his song,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be honest. Say you heard the song and it got stuck in your head and you’d love to talk to the person who wrote it,” Dongmin said. “Mobilize your considerable army of fans to find him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if he doesn’t want to be found?” Myunjgun asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin considered. “I have to at least try, right? To find my soulmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is your soulmate,” Dongmin said. “If you put yourself out there with the song, you can give him the choice, about whether or not he wants to be with you. But at least give him the choice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded and sat up straighter. “All right. I’ll do it.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Myungjun and Dongmin helped him recreate the song so he could have some kind of accompaniment for his cover. He’d had to sing it for them over and over again so they could figure out the chord progression. Each time he’d sung it, he’d grown more and more confident in his knowledge of the lyrics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you glad you trained as a rapper?” Myungjun asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin scribbled some more chord notations on the sheet music the three of them had been working on for the past four hours. “That’s something the two of you have in common beyond just music.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“True,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of the three of them, only Myungjun had any extensive songwriting experience, so he was going to get a backing track made for Bin to perform along with, since Bin wanted to perform and post his cover as soon as possible, and it would take him forever to learn the accompaniment on the keyboard himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun studied the sheet music, then nodded. “All right. I’ll take this to Jinwoo and we’ll see what we can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jinwoo?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Park Jinwoo. Ah, his producer name is Jinjin. He helped me write Bloom,” Myungjun said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was one of Myungjun’s most popular ballads, sweeping and longing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He has really nice production software on his computer that he lets me dink around with. We can come up with something really fast, have it to you in a couple of days.” Myungjun smiled. “Till then, keep practising.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you so much.” Bin sighed and slumped over the desk. “I know it’s stupid, being this desperate to find someone I don’t even know. Soulmates are fated and all, but what if we don’t even like each other?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll at least have the chance to find out.” Dongmin patted Bin’s shoulder. “Just remember, if Myungjun-hyung and I need help finding our soulmates, you’d better deliver.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will brave certain death on the streets of Gangnam to post wanted posters for Cha Eunwoo’s soulmate,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin winced. “When you put it like that, why would anyone ever want to be my soulmate?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least give them the choice.” Myungjun patted Dongmin on the shoulder, scooped up the sheet music, and sailed for the door. He fished his phone out of his pocket as he went. “Hey, Park Jinwoo, Jinjin, my sweet Jinie, will you do me a favor? A huge favor. I’ll owe you one. The next really cute pop song you write, I’ll show it to Moon Bin. For reals. Because this favor is actually for him…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do owe us,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can be best men at my wedding if this works out,” Bin said. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“If.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fate,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin sighed. “People are also fated to die.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin shoved his shoulder. “No wonder you’re an actor. You’re so dramatic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will we find him?” Bin looked up at Dongmin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like your mom said, it’s fate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin sighed again and rested his head on his arms. Fate seemed so cruel, to show him his soulmate and then snatch him away.</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bin wouldn’t be the first idol to record a cover of a song and post it to his SNS. Usually he did dance covers, because he had a reputation as a skilled dancer, and also he liked dancing, and when he saw cool new choreo, he wanted to learn it. But he was also a singer by profession, had trained for a long time to become a good singer despite his voice’s natural tendency to crack when he was nervous or stressed, more than most people’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he practiced the song, and he considered what he should wear for recording. Some covers were massive production affairs, with costumes and impressive cinematography and maybe even backup musicians and dancers. This wasn’t going to be one of those covers, just a casual one, with some footage of Bin in the studio laying down vocals. He was supposed to look casual but also stylish and handsome, but not overdone. He was supposed to look like an idol at work; the video should have a behind-the-scenes feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he also wanted to look good for his soulmate, because he was hoping his soulmate saw the video.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was standing in front of his closet, considering his outfit choices — jeans, because he was comfortable in those, and he knew which pairs made his legs look good, so really the bigger decisions were about his shirt and whether he should wear a jacket or sweater or something, and also maybe some kind of hat to hide his hair or no? — when his phone buzzed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced at it, saw that it was Myungjun calling, and answered. “Hey, hyung, what’s up?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, we’re about halfway done with your backing track, but Jinwoo might know who wrote this song,” Myungjun said. His tone was very careful. So he hadn’t told Jinwoo why they wanted this song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?” Bin said. “But you posted about me looking for this songwriter to your SNS and you’re friends with Jinwoo on SNS.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jinwoo says the person who wrote this song isn’t a songwriter or producer, he’s a dancer,” Myungjun said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But — when I talked to him he said he was a songwriter,” Bin said, confused and elated all at once. Then he remembered what the beautiful stranger on the train had said: </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sort of. Just for fun.</span>
  </em>
  <span> So it must have been his hobby and not his profession. How could Bin have been so stupid?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, Jinwoo says he’s pretty sure he’s heard a version of this song before, and it belongs to someone he knows as a dancer,” Myungjun said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who? Where can I find him?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun said, “I’ll text you an address.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin yanked on a jacket and a pair of socks and headed for the door. “Thank you.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bin had his music turned up loud and his earbuds in, partially to soothe himself with music and avoid everyone else, partially so he could listen to the directions on his phone as he made his way to the dance studio, and partially because he wanted to hear the moment when his music was interrupted, to make sure this strange dancer really was his soulmate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin’s cheery Christmas single from last year was blasting away, all sweet vocals and Christmas-y bells, and then the voice on Bin’s phone told him to turn left at the next corner, and the song transitioned into one of Myungjun’s epic charity singles that was him leading about a thousand other brand new rookie idols celebrating a good cause, and then —</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Classical music surged to life over Bin’s earbuds, and he came up short, spun around, searching.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t know classical music very well. Dongmin would have recognized it immediately if he were there, if he were even able to hear what Bin was hearing right now, because this was music from his soulmate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Bin saw, to his left, a partially-frosted glass window. He looked up, and he saw a sign for a dance studio, the one Myungjun had sent him the name of.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin didn’t even hesitate, tore open the door and headed inside, yanked out his earbuds so he could hear which room his soulmate was in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only he could hear no music, none at all, because the dance practice rooms had excellent soundproofing. Bin popped his earbuds back in. There was a long hallway lined with glass, and doors, and Bin could see — teenage girls doing exercises at a barre. Tiny tots in tutus trying to follow a woman as she did slow easy turns. Elementary school girls doing some simple choreography. None of them were moving to the music in Bin’s earbuds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there, at the end of the hall, a single figure. Bin stood by the door, watching, entranced, as the young man, shirtless but wearing a pair of surprisingly flowing blue trousers, soared across the practice room When he leaped, he went so high. Bin had done some basic ballet as part of his dance training, but he’d never even come close to anything like this, with the jumps and turns and extensions. The flexibility and strength required for those extensions were beyond Bin’s current abilities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that his soulmate?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man landed on his knees and struck a dramatic pose, and the music in Bin’s earbuds ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed open the door. “Pardon me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man rose to his feet and bowed politely. “Hello. Are you lost? Hip-hop lessons are a couple of doors down, on the other side of the hall.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’m not lost,” Bin said. “I’ve finally found you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man immediately looked wary. “Who are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We met on the train,” Bin said. “You were humming a song you’d written.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man looked Bin up and down. “Ah. The Entertainment Salaryman? How did you find me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A friend of a friend,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As you can see, I’m not really a songwriter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I found out, since I posted on SNS looking for a songwriter, and none of my songwriter or producer friends knew who I was looking for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man reached into the gym bag tucked against the wall and drew a towel out of it, toweled himself off, and — he really was beautiful, sleek lean muscle and miles of golden skin, glowing with exertion. “What, you asked your friends to help you find a stranger on a train?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got one of my friends to draw a sketch of you,” Bin admitted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not even that good a song.” The young man yanked a shirt out of the bag and tugged it on over his head. “Your company must be really desperate for songwriters.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really,” Bin said. “Thousands of hopeful songwriters send us songs all the time, and a team of interns whittles it down to about a hundred before passing it off to a PR and management team, who cut it down to about thirty before passing it on to an artist, and maybe five, six, seven, or eleven songs make it onto a mini-album or an album.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why are you looking for me? You seem like a crazy stalker.” The young man took a long pull from a shiny metal water bottle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re my soulmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man spluttered and nearly choked on his water. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whenever I’m near you, I hear music,” Bin said. “That you’ve written.” He swallowed hard. “Do you hear music when I’m near?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man tossed his head. “Not really? I mean, you sort of look like this one pop star my younger brother is into, so when I see you I think of his songs, but that’s all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared at him. “You — this pop star wouldn’t be Moon Bin, would it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man looked amused. “Ah, so people have compared you to him before?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> Moon Bin,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man blinked. “But you don’t look </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> like him. I mean…” He prowled closer to Bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, no, obviously I don’t look like I do in photo shoots or music videos. No one looks like that in real life,” Bin said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Prove it. Prove you’re him,” the young man said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin fished in his pocket for his wallet, came up with his driver’s license, held it out. The young man eyed it, then eyed Bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This could be a really good fake because you look like him,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to sing and dance for you or something?” Bin asked. “I’m guessing you’re not much of a fan, so you probably wouldn’t know if I was doing the choreo right or not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just because you did the choreo right wouldn’t mean you’re the real Moon Bin,” the young man said, handing back the driver’s license. “As a dancer I know all about learning someone else’s choreography.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not telling you till you prove you’re the real Moon Bin.” The young man crossed his arms over his chest and raised his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin grabbed his phone out of his pocket and hit speed dial. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Myungjun asked. He sounded annoyed and distracted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung, where are you right now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to work with Jinwoo, </span>
  <em>
    <span>for you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and we’re busy,” Myungjun said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get Jinwoo-ssi to call his dancer friend and tell him I’m really Moon Bin, because he doesn’t believe I am who I say I am,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At Jinwoo’s name, the other young man looked surprised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun burst out laughing. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyung, come on,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He doesn’t know who you are? Oh, that’s too good.” Myungjun was howling with laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin felt his face heat. “Hyung, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, sure.” Myungjun’s voice went muffled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, Bin heard another phone ringing. He cast about, and the young man was digging in his gym bag for his phone. He stared at it for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jinwoo-hyung is calling me,” he said. He looked at Bin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Answer it,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man answered, never taking his eyes off of Bin. “Hey, hyung. There’s a stranger in my practice studio. He says he’s Moon Bin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said in a low voice to Myungjun, “You better not be screwing me over, I swear —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not with your soulmate, never,” Myungjun said, though there was still laughter in his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young man lowered his phone and looked at Bin. He said, “My name is Park Minhyuk.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>They sat facing each other in a small ramyeun restaurant Bin went to often. The auntie who ran the restaurant knew him well, and she showed him to a table in the corner that was sort of hidden from the main window, and she brought him and Minhyuk a couple of iced teas for free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you’re a celebrity?” Minhyuk asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I come here often,” Bin said. “I’ve been coming here since elementary school.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Elementary school?” Minhyuk echoed, sipping warily at his iced tea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “I started training in sixth grade. I came here often, when I was allowed out of the practice room to get a meal. The company has a cafe and a cafeteria. The cafe is mostly for visitors. I worked there, sometimes, as a barista. It was practice at having a real job, and also publicity, kind of?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk stared at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you work at all, while you were also training to be a dancer, or did dancing take up all of your time?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I worked as well,” Minhyuk said finally. “Mostly I’d clean the dance studios after hours for a reduction in dance tuition.” He tilted his head. “We’re really soulmates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “My mother and father are soulmates. All growing up, my mother always said I should love someone who sings a song only I can understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You hear the songs I write,” Minhyuk said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded. “They sound really good. I like them. They’re catchy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not just saying that because I’m your soulmate.” Minhyuk raised his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hear dozens of guide tracks on a regular basis. I know a catchy song from a boring one,” Bin said. He studied Minhyuk. “What songs do you hear when you’re around me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your popular songs, I guess? I don’t really listen to K-pop.” Minhyuk shrugged and looked a little apologetic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You listen to mostly classical music?” Bin asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do listen to a lot of classical music because that’s what I dance to, but for fun I listen to pop music, you know, Billboard Top 100, stuff from America, like Justin Bieber and Harry Styles and Lauv and Bruno Mars,” Minhyuk said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But your younger brother listens to my music?” Bin asked. “Enough that you recognized my voice, at any rate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a huge fan,” Minhyuk said. “He’s going to be thrilled when he finds out you’re my soulmate. He’ll be expecting all kinds of perks, like concert tickets and backstage passes and things. Don’t spoil him. He’s spoiled enough already.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin was amused by the sour expression Minhyuk wore when he spoke of how spoiled his younger brother was. “Sing me one of the songs you hear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk closed his eyes, cleared his throat. “You probably get sick of singing your own greatest hits.” And then he started to hum.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin stared. “That’s not one of my greatest hits.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk opened his eyes. “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s one of my favorite songs. I loved it as soon as I heard it. It was a song that was offered to me for my third album, but they wouldn’t let me release it because it didn’t fit my image at the time. I mean, I did record it, but it didn’t end up on the final cut of the album.” Bin’s pulse jumped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could hear, just slightly louder than a whisper, Minhyuk’s song, When the Wind Blows. Would they always hear music when they were together? Would it slowly drive them mad? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk blinked. “We — I really am your soulmate.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before they could say anything more, the auntie brought them their ramyeun, asked if they needed anything else. Bin smiled at her and said they were fine, and she smiled and told them to eat well, and then she bustled away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...now what?” Minhyuk asked. “Happily ever after? That’s how it always is in dramas and movies, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “This isn’t a drama or a movie. Yes, we’re soulmates, but you have a choice to make. Just because we’re soulmates doesn’t mean we’re obligated to be together. We might not even like each other. And — I am who I am, and you are who you are. We both have lives and careers and families and other considerations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk arched an eyebrow. “You know I’m a male ballet dancer, right? Everyone in my life would be disappointed if I </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>gay. I’m actually bi, but trying to date girls is sort of a chore, because I constantly have to convince them I actually like them, so. I gave up a long time ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m an idol. My dating ban ended a while ago, but I’m not really allowed to date publicly, and openly dating another man would be difficult. More for you than for me in a lot of ways. Dating in secret can be really burdensome,” Bin said. “A lot of people don’t like it. I might lose some fans if it’s revealed that my soulmate is a man, but I don’t care about keeping fans like that. Antis, though. They could be really cruel to you. Or sasaengs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve heard about antis and sasaengs from my brother,” Minhyuk admitted. “But if you didn’t want us to actually be together, why did you try so hard to find me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to give you the choice,” Bin said. “To decide whether or not you wanted to be with me. It only seemed fair.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk nodded, and he ate some of his ramyeun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin dug into his own ramyeun, and they fell into a tense silence, avoiding each other’s gazes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally Minhyuk said, “How can I decide whether or not we should be together if I don’t even really know you? All I know about you is what my brother has told me, and most of it is probably inaccurate anyway.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What has he told you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He says you can sing and do push-ups at the same time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He says you don’t like really fishy-tasting food?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Also true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk eyed Bin. “Tell me something about you that no one knows, not your best friend, not your manager or your mother or your brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t have a brother, just a younger sister,” Bin said. But he nibbled on some ramyeun and considered. Finally he said, “I never wanted to be an idol when I was younger. My mother had me be a child model because I was mildly cute, and my sister wanted to do dance lessons and it was easy to enroll both of us at the same dance hagwon, but I just...did what I was told. I entered training because I passed the audition, and I just kept...doing what I was told. And then when I’d been in training for about four years, I was onstage, and I finally really nailed a performance, and I heard the audience scream, and I felt this rush of adrenaline, and I thought...maybe. Maybe this is for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk stared at him. “You trained for </span>
  <em>
    <span>four years</span>
  </em>
  <span> before you thought </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> this career was for you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin shrugged. “It took me a while to learn to be a decisive person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now?” Minhyuk asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And now I ask my friends to draw a sketch of a handsome man I met on a train because I think he might be my soulmate and reblog it on their SNS to help me find him,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk ate some more ramyeun, drank some more iced tea. He said, “I haven’t decided whether we should formally seal our bond as soulmates.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A soulbond was above and beyond dating and marriage; it was sharing souls and life forces. It was an intimate connection beyond description. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want to be able to make an informed decision,” Minhyuk said. “To that end, Moon Bin, will you date me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Music soared in Bin’s ears, Park Minhyuk singing brightly and sweetly about being curious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin said, “Yes. Let’s date.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>“Congratulations to Moon Bin, this week’s winner on MCountdown!” Dongmin grinned and bowed and held out the trophy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Myungjun dragged Bin into a hug and pounded him on the back, and confetti rained down, and then Bin was alone on the stage, trying not to cry and also trying to sing, but of course his voice was cracking despite all the extra vocal training he’d done in advance of this comeback and the new drama he was slated to start filming as soon as comeback promotions were finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the encore was finished, Bin stumbled off the stage, clutching the trophy. Staff swarmed him, his manager hugging him, his stylists fanning him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dongmin and Myungjun hugged him tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did it,” Dongmin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You owe us so big,” Myungjun said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin held them both and nodded. “I promise,” he said. “When it’s your turn, flyers all over Gangnam. I’ll post them by hand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he stumbled back to the dressing room to change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course there were photos taken and behind-the-scenes videos filmed by staff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the show’s staff filmed him as he headed for the elevator down to the parking lot, and he thanked his stylists and manager and staff, his fans and his company, his family and friends, his fans again for their love and support and working hard to vote for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’d especially like to thank the writer and producer of this comeback’s title track, the amazing Rocky, who also choreographed the stage for this song. He’s so talented and also one of my best friends, and this comeback couldn’t have happened without him. Thank you.” Bin smiled and waved at the camera and offered finger hearts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the elevator doors slid closed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His manager, who was wearing a dust mask, said, “Could you have laid it on any thicker?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have.” Bin sighed and slumped against the back wall of the elevator, exhausted and drained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You going to do a Vlive in the car back to the company?” Manager asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ll wait till I’m back at the company,” Bin said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Manager nodded. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think someone ordered a cake, so, I’ll light the candle back at the company and everything.” Bin followed Manager across the parking lot and to the van, and as soon as the door was open he tumbled inside, dropped his backpack at his feet and closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone buzzed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Text message from Minhyuk.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I still think Rocky is the lamest producer name ever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin smiled and tapped out a reply. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You could have been Rapinator. Be grateful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just because I like rapping doesn’t mean I deserve a stupid producer name. Why can’t I be just Minhyuk?</span>
  </em>
  <span> His reply included a little pouty emoji.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin laughed to himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Too many Minhyuks in the industry already, and RM-sunbaenim set the standard for rapper names, so.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But I’m not even an idol. I’m still a professional dancer. </span>
  </em>
  <span>This message was accompanied by three pouty emojis.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>And when you grace the stage as the first soloist of the Seoul City Ballet, you are none other than Park Minhyuk, and you are very dignified and professional. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Bin grinned, amused at his soulmate’s frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinwoo had christened Minhyuk with his official producer name, because as a soulmate pair whose bond was forged on music, Bin and Minhyuk were unstoppable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally Minhyuk abandoned the pouty emojis. </span>
  <em>
    <span>When will you be home?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Not for a couple hours yet. I have to do a Vlive for the fans.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The pouty emojis were back. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m your biggest fan. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Pretty sure your younger brother would disagree. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He would be wrong. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Well, since you’re my biggest fan, you get to see me in person after all the other fans get to see me on Vlive. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>More pouty emojis. </span>
  <em>
    <span>See you in a couple of hours. I want to celebrate too. But I have something better than cake. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin perked up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What is it? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Had Minhyuk finally found somewhere in Seoul that sold the stick-bap from his childhood?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk sent a selca. He was wearing a sleek black turtleneck and his hair was combed neatly and he looked gorgeous, and Bin wanted to peel that turtleneck off of him. Minhyuk was winking, and his message said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin typed back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll be on Vlive for half an hour, tops. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk sent another devastatingly handsome selca. </span>
  <em>
    <span>See you soon.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin leaned forward between the seats and said, “Drive faster, please.”</span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>Bin’s heart was racing as he rode the elevator up to his apartment. When he was working, he could attenuate the soul bond so it didn’t distract him, but he’d been away from Minhyuk all day doing recording for the music show, and Minhyuk had left early for conditioning and rehearsals at the ballet company, and Bin </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed </span>
  </em>
  <span>him fiercely. Of course they’d open the connection between them once in a while, but where their connection was music, they risked distracting each other in the middle of a performance, so usually the contacts were brief, but now Bin opened the connection and let the music flood through him, airy instrumentation and Minhyuk singing </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you so much.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin input the door code with shaking hands, and there was Minhyuk, sleek in black, holding a single red rose, just inside the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome home,” he said, his lips curving into a faint smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The song inside Bin’s mind changed to a sultry, Latin-esque rhythm, and Minhyuk’s voice in his head sang, in surprisingly good English, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Play with me now, do better. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin kicked off his shoes, let his gym bag fall, and dragged Minhyuk into a kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk melted against him, lips parting, and Bin groaned hungrily, kissed him deeper. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally parted for air, Bin said, “Congratulations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me?” Minhyuk looked puzzled. He smoothed a strand of hair out of Bin’s eyes, towed him toward the kitchen table, which was laden with a healthy homemade meal. “The person who got a win on a music show today was you, not me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you wrote the song and choreographed the dance and —”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk silenced him with a kiss. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“We</span>
  </em>
  <span> won. With our love. Now eat up, and we can keep on celebrating.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin scooped up his chopsticks. “Yeah? What are we doing after dinner?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Having cake,” Minhyuk said, and then, with a wicked gleam in his eye, “or something better than cake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin nodded, took a long pull from his glass of water. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You never have to thank me,” Minhyuk said. “I will always share music with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bin leaned across the table and kissed him. “I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Minhyuk smiled into the kiss and said, “Love you too.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks to <a href="https://twitter.com/thevonseal">@seal</a> for her beta services!</p><p>The line about your soulmate singing a song only you can understand comes from LJ Smith's Secret Vampire ;)</p><p>Also sorry there was just...no Sanha?</p><p><a href="https://soundcloud.com/rockycl0ud/when-the-wind-blows-guide-ver-by-rocky">When the Wind Blows</a> - Guide Version by Rocky :D</p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jUc4DK000KA">Curious</a> - from when Rocky played it on one of his voice-only Vlive shows</p></blockquote></div></div>
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